


A Handsome Devil in Blue

by BlueMocchi23



Series: Fallout and The Blues [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fallout Lore, Independent New Vegas (Fallout), Lone Wander Swings By With Friends, Lore Friendly Mods, M/M, Mentions of Fallout 3 & New Vegas, Nora-freeform, Other, Post-Fallout 3, Post-Fallout: New Vegas, Pre-war flashbacks, Shaun-freeform, Sole Survivor is a Scumbag, Sole Survivor-freeform, Working Vehicles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMocchi23/pseuds/BlueMocchi23
Summary: Joseph Scaletta, Anton Romanoff, Nate DeSimone...a man who had seen the Old World at its worst and shown it his ass.Never one to play hero, even if he didn't mind donning the white hat for a bit, getting his hands dirty wasn't a problem--the smile he wears so well as bridges burn and bodies spell out his name.Playing General ins't hard when you play to win with a rigged board.





	A Handsome Devil in Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanting more for your friend than revenge is not an insult unless you're friends with Joseph

**_ **December 31, 2287** _ **

**_ **_11:45 PM_ ** _ **

The air around the former Fort Independence was frosted and caused a chill in the Boston area, the towering Minutemen base of operation's stood steady as the inhabitants usually milled around like a well-oiled machine. The faction that stood for the people of Commonwealth now has a foothold, and they weren't going anywhere, not if their newly appointed General had anything to say about it.

Today however, wasn't one for fight's or defending another settlement that couldn't get their shit together for longer than a second, no today was the Castle's New Years' party by order of Joseph Scaletta; original Vault Dweller, pre-War Veteran and spy, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111.

Steel colored eyes behind the smudged glasses gave nothing away, smooth copper toned skin with a few healed over scars and bruises that did nothing to his looks--the Boston transplant was a complete pretty boy and he knew it. Muscles cut and defined, rippling beneath the crisp white dress shirt held together with the plum colored tie hanging loosely around his neck, broad shoulders encased in his striped coat jacket undone to show off the narrow waist and long legs of his six-foot-three height clad in tan slacks.

"I'm telling you to enjoy yourself, Preston--who knows the next time we'll have a night like this? Put the rifle down, and just relax for once..."

Dark brown shoes kicked up on a battered coffee table as the owner of said feet slouched in a rewashed leather living chair, the suede desert boot pointed upwards as the man before the him sat uncomfortably in his seat. Preston Garvey, for a lack of a better word, was a stick in the mud and Joseph understood that was his role - the physically older man had to balance him out; for his aggressive nature compared to Preston's passiveness, his unfamiliar hot & cold routine to Preston's familiar warm nature, Garvey was the man you wished your son to be while Joseph was the guy you wished your daughter would avoid.

The Sun and the Moon.

"Someone has to be sober..." Heavy brows arched at the display Cait and a drunken MacCready put on,

Joseph blew on his coffee mug before taking a hearty sip, his cheeks pinking and a dark lock of hair fell over his eye, "That’s what Cods is for, 'sides, shouldn't my Second enjoy in the festivities?"

"But-"

"Drink your damn hot toddy, Preston." He didn't raise his voice, Joseph doesn't scream or yell, there's just a tone in his deep voice that rumbles over you when he stares into your soul, "Cutting loose doesn't always have to be a uphill battle, so why are you making it one?"

He also has this way of getting into your head and he knew what to prod you with, he was the devil on your shoulder; he didn't give you sin to do, he just ask what would be the harm to indulge every now and again.

"Okay, what's one drink?" The firewater warmed his palms even through the finger-less gloves he wore, steam flowed from the formerly cracked mug in his hands as he took a sip.

The effect was almost immediate, warming up his whole being with a nice kick from the spices Joseph and his Ghoulified friend of his found. Joseph's former handler had grumbled about the lost of lemon's and oranges but she claimed mutfruit to an okay stand-in, not that Preston knew what she was talking about, especially now as he was humming into his cup that warmed the cool air inside the Castle as outside snowed lightly.

"Better?"

"Ah, better." The sigh Preston gave relaxed his bones, the stiff posture and rigid placement in his shoulders gave way and dark skinned man loosened up for once with a lazy grin, "So much better..."

The dapper man gave a light grin, his beard did a thing when his dimples made an appearance and his steel colored eyes danced as he sat up and gotten out of his seat. "I'm gonna go and make my rounds, you take it easy Garvey."

His slick hair in a greaser style gave him extra unneeded height as he stood over the couch that steadily becoming crowded beneath his gaze until he moved away and out the archway, passing by the merry vendor's and farmers whom danced sloppily against one another and he maneuvered around the cheering settler's. Joseph ignored most of the noise and only focused on the fireworks being prepped outside by his best friend, Zara.

Zara's bronze skin had wrinkled and her hooked nose had fallen off long before he woke up, but there was nothing that could change how she stood or how she spoke even with her vocal cords sounding like she gurgled with rusty nails. Her brown eyes hidden behind the black and her freckles burned, her hair once dyed an auburn color was now thinning and kept under a worn baseball cap and her small frame kept warm in the re-stitched wool coat in a rough orange color.

"Joey..." Zara's voice hummed as the high collar of her coat brushed against her neck, "good night for pyrotechnics, eh?"

"At a time like this...sure, why not. Good for moral and all that," Joseph knocked knuckles with the woman who lived just about as long as he did, "something to remind them how far the Minutemen has come. Gunners nearly dead and Raider's are more of a hangnail problem than a life-or-death threat. Life is good, and it has been for a while..."

Zara snorted as steady hands twisted over wires, and double checked the last of the cannon's, "You know something Joey, you have this nasty habit of seeing all of your problems as nails and you tend to - well, 'hammer out' what you deem as an issues." the Ghoulified woman stood up, dusting off the dirt on her leather pants,

The only person to refers to him as Joey or even known who he was before the rust and dust of post-War Boston, Joseph held her and her thoughts to high regard, "And you have a terrible habit of thinking a scalpel will do a better job..." and other times he blatantly ignores them.

"What can you say, I’m old fashioned. But, the year has some ups and downs…seeing you alive is a highlight.” Zara looked out on the freezing ocean on the Boston sea’s and gave a hearty sigh, “Knowing how Sweetness died-”

“Don’t. She is to be ****remembered**** , not  _ _mourned__. And that’s that,” The edge to his voice at the thought of his wife caused some tension in his shoulders, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Z, so stop.”

“For how long? Until you die or until you find ‘Fonso--you can’t live like that Joey, she wouldn’t want that for you.”

“I’ve yet to hear the holotape she left me,” Joseph’s voice didn’t shake or croak, the frown on his face gave nothing away, “hadn’t found it in me to do it…not until I find the bastard who killed her, and make him pay.”

“And then…what? New year, new notch on your gun belt?” Joseph scoffed, placing the mug in her hands and harshly sank his shoulders,

“Like I would wear a gun belt, please.”

“Then, what Joey? When are you going to let this go?” The question burned her for some time now and his answer did little to placate her,

“When I’m dead…”

“So, forever then, huh?” He said nothing else on the subject but sat back and watched the explosives reach high heaven, “What would your mother say, Joey? How would Frankie feel about this?”

“Easy, you reap what you sow, now pass the salt. If you think my mama gave a damn about _people_ ," he edged, barely counting Kellogg as a person, "like _him_ , you got another thing coming. And before you ask, ”

Fog from his mouth flowed around his face as he looked at the bursting of purples and gold. "Nonna Sofia, felt the same."

"You and your family..."

The two pre-War relics watched the fireworks in silence, the noise below them muffled against the lapping of waves and the rocketing flashes of gunpowder hitting the night sky. They stood in the freezing air unshaken, their eyes fixed upwards even as the background noise was calling for their attention to stray,

“Just do me one favor, Joey, just one…” Zara’s eyes never moved from the show overhead, “try talking to people for once. Instead of at them; shooting people doesn’t build character, despite Carters lessons.”

Joseph scoffed, “Z, Carter made it clear, carrot or the stick. People just tend to pick the hard way of doing things.”

“Joey, for me--try the new year without immediately shoving your gun in someone’s face for once, no threat’s, no promises of harm, nothing.”

He though on it with his jaw jumping and his fist clenched in his pockets, a few more burst of colorful explosion’s when he turned back around to head back inside with a grumble, “I’ll think about it…”

“Happy New Year, Joey.”

“Shut up.”  

 

\--CWB--

 

**_ **_August 14, 2287_ ** _ **

** **7:56 AM** **

__It was like stepping out of a coma or a very long nap, the need to move and the counterproductive feeling of wanting to stand completely still override every other sense you have. You are cold, so very cold and out of breath that you shuttered every time you are awarded a puff of air in your lungs, your bones hurt and you can barely feel your skin because of how cold you are…but then, you fall._ _

__You fall hard because you have no idea how long its been since you’ve used your legs, you have no clue what day it is and now your chin is bleeding. Things in your head are fuzzy but pain still stings all the same, and when you do the universal thing all humans do and pull your hand back to see how much blood is flowing, you look up._ _

__What you see isn’t normal, and when you try to stand you almost wished you stayed down._ _

__You see your face, and you a see a woman’s face frozen in time. Then it comes back, like adjusting a camera lens into focus, everything is clear and you know who you are…but_ _ __more than that,_ _ __you know who she is; who_ _ __she_ _ __was to you, to everyone._ _

__“No,” the word is hoarse in your throat, dry and lifeless even as your hands fumble around to open the…pod, she was trapped in, “_ _ __no_ _ __!”_ _

__You pull the latch on the side and she’s--you feel your eyes burn and your stomach twist into knots as it feels like you swallowed a rock. You pull the latch again, closing it with its finally hiss and stumbling away like some drunk with one of your legs dragging behind._ _

__“How,” looking around to the others, dead as she was and frozen in time, “am I the only one left? No, this isn’t…this isn’t right, this isn’t fair.”_ _

__You grab your stomach, prepared to vomit when you notice a computer, screen dusty and keys stained with dried over grease and dust bunny’s collecting in between the spaces. The monitor blinking to life when you touch the mouse pad when you notice names and dates still present on a file; names and ages, labeled under the arrays of C’s._ _

__However, something is amiss. All of the people in the pods besides yourself, are dead but the file was accessed recently when you touch on hers; opened sometime ago and closed right back when you notice it._ _

__“Nora DeSimone…that’s not right,” you know its not, you’ve heard her name over in your head over a million times in your life when the next line you read, nearly kills you. “Infant…S-Shaun DeSimone. My,” you choke then, and close to the edge as your hands grip the sides of the hood of the monitor,_ _

__“My__ boy _ _.__ My _ _boy…__ my son _ _!__ _ _” And you wail, sobbing as you collapse onto the steps behind you; images flood your mind as you weep for your family, for what was__ _ _lost__ _ _, for yourself. “Oh God, please…why?!”__

__You lose your family, and gain your life--parts of yourself is fulfilled, and then you cry harder._ _

__You are not Nate DeSimone._ _

__You’re Joseph Scaletta, and this is the beginning of the end._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Lore Friendly Mods used as Bethesda sometimes acts a little uninspired with the world of Fallout.


End file.
